Dress To Impress
by BipolarMolar
Summary: Bralker. Brendan Brady and Simon Walker. Slash. Dressing-up games. Come on, you know you want it. Will be about two chapters long.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Dress To Impress**

**Author: BipolarMolar**

**Disclaimer: I don't make any money from HO.**

**Ok, so…a cross-dressing fic. Hope you like it. One more chapter to come after this, I think- will have Bralker slash. Just for the record, in this fic, Walker doesn't want to be a woman or anything, he just gets off on wearing the clothes, but he's perfectly happy being male.**

With Brendan working late at Chez Chez, and Cheryl staying with friends, Walker knew he had time to indulge himself. Thank goodness it was his night off- he just couldn't wait.

He tried to remember the last time he'd done this- too long ago, while Alice had been staying with her mother. Unlocking the front door and walking into Brendan's flat, seeing familiar purple walls and contemporary art embellishing the rooms, he smiled in anticipation . This was really happening.

Walker swallowed down the guilt with ease, as he crept up the stairs. He didn't know why he was bothering to be quiet; the flat was empty. But this feeling, the fear of being caught, of knowing what he was doing and how angry Brendan would get if he found out- well, that was almost as delicious as the act itself.

Letting himself into Cheryl's bedroom, he smiled appraisingly at the feminine fripperies- skirts and dresses, high heels on the floor and flowers in a vase on a nearby table. He gave himself a second to set down his bag, but couldn't wait anymore, rushing over to the wardrobe with a grin.

God, it was all so beautiful. Simon just let his fingers caress the silk, velvet and woollen clothes hanging so tantalisingly from their hangers, leaning in to catch the scents of fabric softener and perfume. He could feel his heart beginning to pound as he flicked through the garments, checking their sizes. Yes, this was very nice.

He selected a knee-length black skirt, quite formal but wide enough to wrap around his thighs. Smiling, he searched for a top. Damn it, it was so hard. Cheryl was a curvy lady, with a fondness for making the most of her cleavage. Simon realised that to achieve this, she wore quite form-fitting long-sleeved blouses with a low-cut neckline. Which would have been fine if not for the fact that Simon Walker didn't _have_ the slim arms of a woman- he had long, slightly muscular arms that wouldn't be able to wear these delicate shirts. He cursed, scowling, deciding to leave that for the moment. Instead, he selected accessories- a small, black leather handbag and a thin, crimson scarf made of a translucent gauzy material. He arranged the bag, skirt and scarf lovingly on the bed, smoothing out wrinkles, straightening them out. But he couldn't really afford to procrastinate. So, he resumed the hunt for a suitable top: blouses- no, too tight. T-shirts- no, too baggy. But then-

"Yes!" A wrap-around top. The best part, it was sleeveless. It was purple with a pleasant shimmery design- Walker saw mauve swirls on it and a glittering butterfly on the back. He gave a dreamy smile as he lifted it up, tilting it this way and that to see the glitter hit the light. Perfection. He found an unopened packet containing a bra and knickers but didn't know whether they'd fit. Worth a shot, though.

With the clothes gathered up in his arms, he let them fall to the bed, and then began to efficiently strip, tugging down zips, unbuckling his belt, divesting himself of dull, male clothing. At last, naked, his toes curling in the carpet beneath his feet, he began to dress.

He sent up a thankful prayer that Cheryl wasn't some stick-thin size zero- her generous size meant that the pants actually fit. He tucked himself in, straightening the red silk min-briefs so that it wasn't obscene. They were slightly uncomfortable-he smiled- clearly they weren't designed for their wearer to have a dick but the smooth silk against his skin was delightful. The bra followed and how _did_ women put them on?

"I'm out of practice." He joked, squinting at the tiny hooks as he fastened it into place. Of course it sagged but by adjusting the straps, he made it a little tighter. Right, what next?

Padding barefoot to his carrier bag, he brought out his items. Black fishnet-stockings, a garter belt with suspenders, and black fishnet stilettos. He'd had to buy them in Soho, in a little shop that catered to drag queens, cross-dressers etc. he'd never admit how seedy he'd felt, but the bright, airy store had eased his nerves.

Simon had one rule about his "hobby"- Never get caught in the act, so that meant that no long-lasting effects like nail varnish and plucking or shaving. He did wince as the fishnet pulled at the hair on his legs, on its journey to his thighs, but it had to be better than waxing. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the world's women at that moment.

When the stockings were in place (with the garter belt and suspenders holding them up) he was ready for the skirt. It was only as he eased the tight material up his thighs and then his hips that he allowed a giddy grin to light up his face. This was it, he was doing it. The top followed; he wasn't quite sure how to wrap it around himself so he just tied it round his midriff, like a cropped shirt. Glancing down at himself, the hint of red from the bra, peeking out from the parted white sides of the shirt seemed oddly…sexy. Flirtatious. He shrugged, reaching for the scarf. Oh yes. Now he felt elegant, fingering the knot of the soft gauze that was adequately shielding his Adam's apple. All that was left was the shoes and make-up. He slid into his stilettos and after a bit of staggering (almost twisting his ankle- he was really out of practise) he was able to saunter across to Cheryl's dressing table, hips swinging, trying to imitate the graceful but undeniably sensual sway of certain ladies.

The large mirror, with its array of make-up beneath it, was a siren's call, beckoning him closer. The room was silent save for the scratch of his heels on the carpet and his own excited breathing. He seated himself at the table, looking into the eyes of his reflection.

Simon let his fingers drift over the bottles and jars, waiting to find whatever took his fancy. He wished he knew more about make-up, it all seemed so damned confusing. He screwed up his face, trying to remember the order his wife used to apply her make-up. Moisturiser, concealer…? Ok. Start with the moisturiser. He coated the tips of his index, middle and ring finger in the stuff, then began to massage it into his cheeks, jaw and brow. He wiped his fingers using a pack of tissues he found nearby, and then added a touch of concealer here and there, just to cover any blemishes. Ha, he was getting better at this. As he was choosing an eye shadow shade (pale-blue seemed nice- it might make his eyes look bluer) he accidentally knocked a little radio perched in the corner. A familiar tune Alice used to like began to play-

"_Some girls always get what they wanna wanna_

_All I seem to get is the other other"_

He had to turn it off; he was laughing too hard.

Simon was able to dab the powder to his eyelids, trying to be neat but also wanting to hurry- this wasn't his favourite part. The best part came later. At last, the eye shadow was done, so next was eyeliner. He almost gave up, wincing as he poked himself in the eye. But soon, that was done. After the accident with the eyeliner, he gave the mascara an apprehensive look, deciding to brush his hair first. He did so, letting the curtains fall in his eyes, liking the way they half-hid his gaze. Eventually, he couldn't postpone the moment any longer. It _was_ quite nice though, seeing his lashes darken and bow gracefully under the touch of the brush. He didn't know why he had to have his lips parted when he did it, but he remembered Alice applying her mascara in the same way, so perhaps it was a common complaint.

Just a whisper of blusher (_don't want to look like a whore_, Walker thought to himself, raising an eyebrow) and then he was ready for the main event.

His lips looked so bare. He couldn't wait. For lipstick.

He gleefully went through Cheryl's collection, finding plum, pink and red. A deep cherry red .That would be lovely. He didn't bother with lip liner, he almost always got it crooked anyway, so he immediately ran the lipstick over his pouting lips, feeling warmth in his chest as pale pink darkened into a rich, shining scarlet. He puckered up his lips, making them give an audible smack and winked at his reflection.

Oh, damn. Perfume. He picked up a random bottle, trying to dab it onto his wrists and behind his ears the way ladies do, but he just couldn't take his eyes off those lipstick-sticky lips. It was beautiful. He felt beautiful. Already, he was growing hard and he sighed with impatience, trying to ignore it but his body had other ideas. Squirming as his cock pushed against the tight fabric of his skirt. He stood up, slipping a little in his shoes but that was worse, the restraining skirt made his thighs brush together when he walked, the material rubbing against his penis. He scowled, taking a deep breath to compose himself, taking even steps, feeling the flimsy heels beneath him.

He couldn't stop his silly grin or the exhilarated laughter that rose in his throat as he carefully picked his way around the room, feeling graceful, loving the way the skirt kissed his hips. It was difficult to walk with a tight skirt, heels and a raging erection, but he had plenty of time left to learn. He could deal with that later. The thought of bringing himself to orgasm, stroking himself through the silk panties while lying on Cheryl's bed made him smile in satisfaction. Served her right for being so rude to him since he's first arrived in the village.

As he angrily stomped along, thinking of Cheryl and Joel's infantile attempts to alienate him, his shoe came off and he bent down to slip it back on. Just as he was getting back to his full height, he happened to glance in the mirror. The reflection showed one, harassed, made-up Simon Walker…and standing behind him with an absolutely inscrutable expression- Brendan Brady.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Dress To Impress**

**Author: BipolarMolar**

**Disclaimer: I make no money from HO.**

**I don't really expect this is going to be of interest to anyone, this fic, because it is rather an unexpected theme to write about, and crossdresser!Walker may not be everyone's cup of tea. But reviews are the only thing that let me know I'm doing these fics right, and they motivate me massively. I understand that Bralker is going to be less supported now that Walker's character has a sell-by date, regarding his time in Hollyoaks, but I think Neil Newbon is so cute, his character deserves this!**

Walker was frozen in place. Literally, standing fixed in one position- a stupid position. Standing like a flamingo with one high-heeled foot hovering off the carpet, the other on the floor. His hair in his eyes and crimson lips parted in surprise as he stared back into the unnerving gaze of Brendan Brady's reflection. Time stood still.

And then-

Walker darted forward, intent on putting as much space between Brendan and himself as possible. He tottered away as fast as his stilettos could carry him, but Brendan was faster. The Irishman just pushed Walker squarely on his chest with one warm hand, causing Walker to tumble and fall, crashing to the floor in an undignified heap, one shoe hanging off his foot as he gasped for breath. He'd never been so embarrassed in his life; he could feel Brendan's gaze boring into his skull as he lay helpless on the carpet like a landed fish. He attempted to haul himself up into a sitting position, yanking his scarf straight and pushing his hair from his eyes. No need to simply lie there, waiting for the wrath of Brady to fall.

"Walker…" He looked up. "Y'mind telling me what this is?"

That comment made him toss his head irritably- it was obvious what "This" was. He told Brendan as much. "What does it look like? I'm getting off by wearing your sister's clothes." He spat, glaring up at the man. He saw Brendan frown, the blue gaze switching to below Walker's waistband. Brendan had only just noticed Walker's erection, apparently. Walker saw Brendan mouth "Getting off" before shaking his head, perhaps in confusion.

"Just in case you're wondering," Walker said heatedly. "I'm not one of those drag queens. It's strictly a…private performance. And I'm perfectly aware that I'm male, and content to be that way."

"Then why do you…?" The fact that Brendan hadn't yet punched him in the jaw was encouraging, so Walker took a deep breath and continued. "I can't describe it…it just feels so…wrong. Dirty. I don't know, the sort of thing I shouldn't do- so I do it."

Brendan nodded, looking lost in his thoughts. "Do you…wank like that?"

A heat crawled up Walker's neck but he continued to meet Brendan's gaze, in a steady unapologetic gesture. "Sometimes. Depends."

"But you don't want to be…?"

"A woman? No."

"Ok." And that, apparently, was that. Brendan stood back, giving Walker room to stretch his legs, still braced on the carpet by his elbows. He was already envisioning the train ride he'd have to take to get out of the village. He didn't think he could handle having to work with Brendan again after this.

Brendan turned his back to Walker, with his arms crossed. He'd spent enough time with Brendan to know what he was doing- he was indicating Walker should change. With a sigh, Walker caressed the scarf longingly, grimacing at his bundle of anorak and denim, waiting for him.

"So, after this…I'll just go, then?" he didn't really know why he said it. Obviously, he'd have to go- Brendan wouldn't want to work with a man like _that_, would he? But after hearing these words, Brendan whirled around, and looked at Walker, properly _looked_, as if seeing him for the first time.

Brendan's eyes travelled over Walker's face, at anxious eyes and cherry-red lips, then down to where a silk scarf lay draped around his throat. Then further down, to an ivory blouse that displayed a generous portion of lean flesh. His gaze dipped down to the shirt's hemline, which was hitched up to reveal the taut muscles of his stomach and then to the tight, shiny black skirt, slowly inching up his thighs, revealing the fishnet covering his legs, his stocking-covered feet covered by shiny black stilettos. Brendan looked at him, and that gaze continued to worry him but he was powerless to resist. Belatedly, he noted he should make some attempt to tug his skirt down a bit so it wasn't quite so revealing, perhaps do up a few buttons on his shirt, but the moment his hand drifted to his blouse, Brendan said "Don't" in a rasp, his own hand moving to stop Walker's.

"Brendan?" Walker asked softly, looking up at him with apprehension. Brendan's eyes lowered to watch Walker's mouth and then he was leaning in. There was no hesitation. Not for Walker anyway. The moment he felt Brendan's mouth, hard and warm, meet his own, he kissed back, feeling his glossed lips slide effortlessly over those of his friend. The kiss started out as a slow, almost lazy dance of lips, but Walker wanted _more_, couldn't _wait_. He leant forward, clutching at Brendan's shoulders in an effort to bring him closer, pouring arousal and excitement into that spontaneous kiss, until Brendan was groaning into his mouth, pressing harder until both men gasped for breath. Brendan pulled back with a gleam in his eye.

"My girl likes to kiss, doesn't she?"

Walker stared back, baffled. What the hell was Brendan talking about?

"Huh?" He managed but Brendan grinned. Brendan's mouth was smeared with lipstick; there was even some on his teeth, Walker saw.

"Y'know…my girlfriend." He leant in.

"_Simone_." He breathed in Walker's ear. Simon Walker went very still.

"Oh." Was all he said before Brendan was pushing him back down on the carpet, forceful hands hoisting his skirt up to cling around his waist.

Brendan's hands seemed to be everywhere at once; clutching at Walker's hips, sliding down to stroke his legs through the stockings, and then reaching behind him to cup Walker's arse.

"Brendan…"

"My girl," Brendan said, pushing Walker down so he was lying on his stomach. Staring down at the carpet fibres (Cheryl had clearly spilled coffee there) he felt Brendan's warm breath on the sliver of skin between his waistband and his blouse's hemline.

"Beautiful." Brendan whispered and Walker shivered, feeling the heat ghost along his flesh, making him wriggle beneath the man's grip.

"R-really?" Walker stuttered, tangling his fingers in the carpet fibres anxiously.

"Yeah, my girl, she's pretty." Brendan murmured, dipping his tongue down to catch a taste of Walker's skin. Walker tensed, but Brendan was being surprisingly gentle. He felt the warmth of Brendan's tongue flicking over his skin, and shivered at the ticklish sensation.

"If this is your way," Walker bit out; shifting on the carpet so his blouse rode up more, allowing a wider path of skin for Brendan's perusal. "Of reasoning out your homosexuality…"

"It's not." Brendan assured him, before letting a little closed-mouth kiss fall on Walker's skin.

"Good." So they continued.

Brendan didn't seem to be in any hurry, dropping hot little kisses on Walker's skin, interspersed with the odd lingering lick. Walker was just too aware of how his cock ached with arousal, and he didn't even notice how he had begun to absent-mindedly hump the carpet, until Brendan chuckled, teasingly stroking Walker's thigh.

"Brendan," Walker said just once, warningly. Warning Brendan not to prolong this, warning Brendan not to tease him, warning Brendan not to-

Lean down and pull down Walker's knickers with his teeth.

"Brendan!" Walker flailed helplessly, feeling stubble against his hip. Brendan gave a muffled response (muffled by, oh dear god, muffled by the mouthful of material he was now easing down Walker's legs) and Walker thought he heard him laugh. It made him think of (strangely enough) watching a dog interact with a puppy. All those sharp teeth and hard claws, but that strength restrained so it's gentle, nurturing. As he felt Brendan's teeth nudge his skin (to get a better hold on the silk) he couldn't help smiling- to think that_ he_ got to see this gentler side of Brendan Brady.

Brendan didn't take the panties off the full way- he let them curl limp around Walker's ankles, which somehow made it seem more sinful. And it certainly reminded them who was in charge.

The brief few seconds where Brendan left his side was a torment to Walker. His worst vision was that Brendan was getting a camera to snap the whole sorry business up (there wasn't really anyone Brendan could show it to- they didn't move in the same social circles but he still liked to be able to walk through the Hollyoaks village without being a complete and utter laughingstock) or perhaps getting Cheryl so she could see what he'd done to her lovely clothes. He didn't have long to wait however, because soon Brendan was back, drizzling a little cold lubricant on Walker's spine.

"Uh-cold."

"Mm." Brendan said in a non-committal grunt, and Walker tried to relax as he felt long, thick fingers gently probing at his arsehole. Walker eyed a spider nestling down in the corner by a bookshelf and nervously waited.

It hurt. As he'd expected. Brendan got one finger in well enough, but the second one made him stretch the entrance a bit, and Walker hissed at the pain. Brendan's sympathetic click of his teeth calmed him down somewhat, and the feeling of the fingers widening him up, working deeper, switched from painful to unpleasant to….quite nice actually. He rose onto all fours, ankles trapped together by the underwear and his skirt nothing more than a thick sash, hiding nothing. Exposing everything.

_Jesus Christ_, Brendan choked. Walker smiled at that.

"Can't-wait-" Brendan's panting words were desperate. "Can't-wait-any-longer."

Walker shrugged, and arched up suggestively; smothering a laugh as he heard Brendan's painfully aroused "Fuck."

They were doing this.

All he knew was that he needed this- fuck the pain, fuck the fact that it wasn't clever and he knew he'd regret this (come to think of it, was Brendan even wearing a condom?) but as he felt Brendan's hands on his arse, and knelt accordingly for the- gift- he was about to receive- he'd never felt so aroused in his life. Brendan pushed into him in one quick thrust.

Ah. No condom then. Walker panted, his chin brushing the floor as he was almost bent double. He could feel the carpet grazing the knees of his stockings and smell the slightly sour carpet, but he didn't care. Pain and irritation be damned, it was fucking perfect. Brendan. In him- (he wanted him in there forever).

"Move, move, Brendan." He growled, and he grunted in satisfaction as he felt Brendan obey. Ah, it was pure sparks of electric pleasure, from where Brendan hit in, in quick thrusts, to deep inside him where he ached to feel, to be touched and oh, Brendan knew exactly what he was doing.

Apparently, Brendan could multi-task because his fascination with Walker's attire didn't stop when he was currently balls-deep in the man- grabbing Walker's skirt, pinging his stockings so Walker snarled, and rubbing a finger over Walker's damp, painted lips, rubbing the redness messily across his face.

"Brendan! Brendan…" Truly, Walker felt desired at that moment. Complete. Even pretty. All he knew was that one thing Brendan never hesitated to do- was surprise him. The catholic brooding criminal was fucking a man in drag into the carpet of his sister's bedroom- and loving it.

When Brendan reached round, grabbed Walker's cock, he knew he was gone and he came, hard and ungracefully, hearing a comical_ rippp!_ of material as his ankles spread, tearing the knickers neatly in two.

"Uh…" Brendan was close, he could feel it and Walker pushed back although he really need to change positions now, but he needed Brendan to come first. Brendan drew back and Walker felt something hot and wet splatter across his thighs as Brendan grabbed hold of him, stroking his bra like Braille. Almost immediately, Brendan sagged, his whole weight falling onto Walker and they both crashed to the ground.

Walker groaned and rolled out from under Brendan, and began to do an inventory.

His outfit…was ruined.

The stockings were (as he'd feared) torn, and he didn't think he'd be able to wash the cum stains from the skirt. The bra and shirt were salvageable, but as he tucked strands of hair behind his ears, grimacing at how they were stick with smeared lipstick, he had no idea how he'd explain this one to Cheryl.

"I'll get her an M and S gift card. She'll be thrilled, she won't notice a few missing items."

Walker looked up at Brendan. "Does this mean…you're ok with it?" He gestured at his bedraggled appearance. "This stuff?"

"You're a weird one, Walker," Brendan grinned wolfishly, leaning over to kiss him. "But you're alright."

**Whoo! Complete! Let me know what you thought!**


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